


A Cage of Sky

by Taupefox59



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Ableism, Ableist Society, Alec Lightwood-centric, Angst with a Happy Ending, Clave Politics, Family Feels, Good Parent Maryse Lightwood, Heavy Angst, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred, Well-Meaning Maryse, Winged Alec Lightwood, Wingfic, Wings, Worldbuilding, internalized ableism
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-15
Updated: 2018-05-31
Packaged: 2019-05-07 08:18:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14667075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taupefox59/pseuds/Taupefox59
Summary: Shadowhunters rise and fall with their wings.When a Shadowhunter grows into their wings, it is time to begin their training.When they lose the end of their fledgling feathers it's time for them to graduate into the field.Shadowhunter training changes to reflect the strength of their wings: the silent flight of owls, the quick dart of a sparrow, and the powerful glide of a hawk.The mark of a Shadowhunter is to glory in their wings and the gift of flight.





	1. Prologue - A Farewell to Idris

**Author's Note:**

> My beta is the truly fantastic and deeply patient [Emily_Sophie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_Sophie/works). I cannot give enough thanks to her for letting me send entire essays worth of me angsting over plot points.
> 
> Thanks also, as always, to the fantastic Lemon Squad. I'm a needy author, and I never could have done it without you.
> 
>  Also [Neonpheonix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/neonphoenix). who ran this entire event and MADE THIS AMAZING BANNER!!! IT'S SO PRETTY! I am ever in awe.
> 
>  
> 
> ALSO!!!
> 
> My **AMAZING** housemate drew me art for this fic!!! Go check out [her tumblr](http://fantabulisticity.tumblr.com/) and tell her how indredible she is!  
> Con/Crit always welcome. Any mistakes left are my own. If you catch something, please let me know!

 

Maryse Lightwood stood on the balcony of her family home in Idris and looked out. Alicante was beautiful in spring. The bright green of new grass contrasting with the clear blue of the sky. She could remember growing up under this sky; running in the fields, sneaking out to go as far into the woods as they dared.

It was all she had dreamed of for weeks: the strength of the wind, rushing up the sides of the mountains, strong enough to knock a person to the ground if they weren’t ready for it. The scent of salt, coasting the air currents over the ocean, just barely out of reach of the spray of the waves. The bright scent of cold air and the freedom of flight.

Her hands came to rest on her stomach. She wasn’t showing her pregnancy much, not yet, but she could feel it. She was fighting for more than herself now. She had to protect her son. She blinked back the burn of tears.

She could fight all she liked, but there would be some things that she knew she would never be able to give him. She would never be able to take him on walks along the shores of Lake Lyn. She would never be able to take him into the mountains to watch the sun rise over the valley. She would never be able to take him flying over the capitol, to share with him the beauty of the shining city from the sky.

Instead, there would be New York.

Maryse knew that she was lucky - how could she not? So many were dead, so many were exiled. Hodge was trapped, branded by his rune from the Circle. He was to be cursed with the inside of the New York Institute, and never be able to speak of why he was being punished.

Maryse knew that if she looked in the mirror, her own neck would be smooth and clear. She had dodged a noose due to the timing of her pregnancy.

 

She would have an entire eternity of groveling to prove to the Clave that their leniency had not been a mistake.

For twenty years, the Lightwoods would be banished, never to live anywhere other than New York. Her son was to be exiled with her. He would not get to spend his summers with other Shadowhunter children his age, learning how to fight with others. He would not be allowed to seek training for his wings. She couldn’t stop the rise of the desperate hope that however his wings manifested, she would be able to help. Her own wings were built for mid-distance flight; she was decent with agility but she wouldn’t be able to help much if he was any kind of smaller bird. She didn’t know how to fight with Sparrow wings.

There was so much she couldn’t help with, so much that her son wouldn’t be able to experience.

He would live, though. They both would. He would get the runes of his people. She wouldn’t be able to take him flying, but he _would_ fly. She would make sure of it.

Maryse let out a slow breath as she watched the flowering trees shake in the breeze. She couldn't give this to her son, but she would make the Clave pay for it. She had made mistakes, but she would make sure that he wouldn’t. Her son wouldn’t be able to make the connections in Idris, so she would raise him to be better. He would get farther than she could ever hope to, and he would do it without the nepotism inherent to Idris.

Maryse had been a Trueblood until the day before. Her family had disowned her with her conviction of involvement in the Circle. Her parents had decided to forsake their grandchildren in the light of her actions and the current political climate.

She didn’t need them. She had taken a new name. She was a Lightwood. Strength ran through her, just as it would run through her children.

She would do whatever it took to allow them to succeed, and they would show everyone. Her children would be more than the Clave would ever be ready for. If they thought that exile to New York would keep her children from their rightful place within the hierarchy, she would prove to them how wrong they were.

She would raise her children to be stronger, better. She would prove to the Clave that it would always be folly to write off a Lightwood.

She had made a mistake, throwing her lot in with Valentine Morgenstern, but the Clave had made a mistake if they thought that she wouldn’t claw her way back in. If they thought that putting sanctions on her children would keep them away, she would do more than prove them wrong.

It didn’t matter what the Clave would throw at them. Her family would triumph. Maryse thought of her unborn son, and burned at the thought of anyone giving him less than his birthright.

The Clave could try whatever they wanted.

She would never let anyone get in the way of her family.


	2. The First Spring

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec encounters a molt for the first time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My beautiful and spectacular beta read through this, but then I went in and screwed around with everything, so if you catch any mistakes, they're my fault, and please let me know so I can fix them.
> 
> Con/Crit always welcome.

There was a feather in the middle of the hallway. It was hardly uncommon for feathers to be falling. The big ones got tweaked during a flight or a fight, or tiny, downy feathers floated into the corners of rooms to be swept away with accumulated dust bunnies. This wasn’t just any feather though. Alec already had two fistfuls of them: long, brindled brown and flashing bronze in the light. These feathers were everywhere, and they belonged to his Mother.

Alec didn’t have his wings yet, wouldn’t for many more years - after all, he was only three. He was almost four, though, and he did know one thing. Feathers didn’t belong on floors, they belonged on wings. Falling feathers meant something was wrong, and nothing was allowed to be wrong. It couldn’t be.

Alec knew that his mom could do anything. She was strong, and nice, and she smelled like warm feathers and leather, and she was caring for little Isabelle. They were always together now. Usually it was okay, but sometimes Izzy wouldn’t stop screaming, and Alec just wanted his mom.

When his sister had been born, he knew it was his job to protect her. He knew the best way to do that was to watch his mom. His mom would be standing tall with her wings out, making sure that everyone was doing their jobs, and she would always be holding Izzy. Right now, Izzy was squishy and small, and he knew to always make sure she was wrapped up in something warm, but she would get bigger soon.

Alec bit his lip and walked to the feather in the middle of the hallway. He tried to pick it up without losing the ones he already had, but eventually he just dropped all of them into one big pile. He scooped up the feathers with both arms and held them to his chest. He wasn’t supposed to cry, he was supposed to be strong and to to care of his sister. He couldn’t help it. His mind filled with thoughts of his mom getting sick. Maybe she was hurt - maybe she was _dying_! Feathers didn’t just fall out for no reason. Alec’s vision was getting blurry and he pressed his face into the feathers he'd gathered. If he was going to cry, he could at least be quiet about it.

He sniffled softly and blinked until the floor came back into focus. He looked up. The only thing he could see was that there were still more feathers, trailing down the hallway. Alec couldn’t do it. He let out a gasping wail and _cried._

  
  

 

Maryse had gone back to her office after getting back from Idris. The meeting had been more bureaucratic bullshit, as always, and she was done. She already knew that her opinion wasn’t worth the trouble of speaking up. Her job for the moment was to keep her head down and act like a good little reformed Shadowhunter. Her dedication to Clave ruling had to be complete in every way.

She knew that she and Robert were on thin ice after their involvement with the Circle, but it wasn’t about them. It was about Alec, and now Isabelle. She had spent the last two days biting her tongue and reminding herself of that.

It didn’t matter Isabelle had been born mere weeks before and her arms were aching to hold her youngest child. It didn’t matter that all she wanted to see was the proud smile Alec wore whenever he had something to show her. Her heart was aching for her children and her body was aching with her molt. She was still healing from giving birth and now beset with the incessant itch of losing her feathers.

She was home and she was done playing politics. All she wanted to do was be in her room, where she wasn’t having to play a simpering sycophant, currying favour in hopes that her children would have some kind of future. The Lightwood family had fifteen years left of their exile to New York. Maryse was determined that her children would have any opportunity they wanted once they were free. She didn’t regret anything that she had to do in order to secure a future for her children, but she had to admit that she was exhausted.

She wanted to breathe. She wanted to hold her newborn daughter. She wanted to groom the itch out of her wings before it drove her _entirely crazy_.

Maryse had just barely gotten settled with Isabelle when there was a knock on her door. It took all of her willpower not to scream. Instead, she took a deep breath, gave herself a moment, and called out an answer. “Yes?”

“Mrs. Lightwood?”

She rolled her eyes. _No, it’s the inquisitor. Who else would it be?_ Instead, she said, “What is it?”

Instead of a verbal response, the door creaked slowly open. The first thing she saw was the blotchy, red face of her crying son. Suddenly, the person on the other side of the door didn’t matter at all. Maryse held Isabelle securely to her chest and rushed to Alec. His nose was running, his face was wet with tears, and his arms were full of her feathers.

“Alec?” He was clearly beside himself, but she had no idea what was wrong.

He sniffed hard and hiccuped. “ _Mom._ ” He took a shuddering breath and kept crying. It seemed like that one word was all he had in him at the moment. Her heart broke at the look of desolation on his face. She shifted Izzy so she had a free arm and she opened it, creating space for Alec to come to her. He immediately dropped the feathers and rushed to her side, clinging to her and sobbing into her shirt.

Maryse was so consumed with caring for her children that she barely even registered the door clicking shut. Her family was left alone in the privacy of their room.

 

Maryse spared a thought to thank the Angel for Shadowhunter strength and coordination before she moved and picked up both of her children. She settled herself on the couch, so Isabelle could stay in her arm, but Alec could be comfortable in her lap. With her free hand, she reached for a nearby box of tissues to wipe Alec’s face clean from his distress.

He was still giving a soft hiccup every so often, but the crying seemed to have mostly abated for the moment. “Alec, my sweet boy, what’s wrong?”

His chin quivered and he blinked up at her, his tear-damp eyelashes only serving to make his eyes look even bigger. “Mommy.” His voice shook and he sniffed again. “Are you dying?”

Maryse stared for a moment as she tried to process the question. Yes, she had been gone for a few days, but what on earth had brought on the idea she was dying?

Alec gasped in the way that meant he was gearing up to cry again, and she realized she’d taken too long to answer. “No! No, honey, no.” She wiped the tears from his eyes again and then tossed the used tissue into the nearby basket. She pulled him close to run her hand through his soft, fine hair. “Sweetheart, I’m not dying.” She paused for a moment, just holding him close until he stopped shaking.

"I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. It’s okay. You’re okay.”

It took a while for Alec to settle, but finally he gave another sniff and pulled away from her. “You’re not allowed to die.”

“Okay.” She replied. There were times when a Shadowhunter parent had to sit down with their child and explain what it meant to be a Shadowhunter. Their job was as dangerous as it was important, and parents _couldn’t_ say that they were always going to come back.

This was not one of those times.

Maryse had taken a position out of the field for at least another two years. She kept herself in shape, of course, but even Shadowhunters understood the importance of maternity leave. “Alexander, can you tell me what happened?”

“I thought you were gonna die.” He tucked his face back into her side and she could barely make out the words through his mumbling.

“Why did you think that, honey?”

“Feathers.”

Maryse frowned. “What?”

“I found your feathers. Feathers aren’t s’posed to fall out.”

Understanding dawned on Maryse. “Alec, did you know that sometimes feathers are supposed to fall out?”

“No, they’re not.” Alec insisted, and she could hear the pout in his voice, even though he was still curled into her side.

Maryse paused for a moment, trying to figure out how to explain. Alec was a truly wonderful child, but he could be the definition of recalcitrant when he worked himself up to it. She knew that simple disagreement wouldn’t get them anywhere.

“Alexander, what do you do when your hair gets so long it’s in your eyes?”

Alec finally pulled away from her, to look up at her in confusion. “You make me cut it?”

Maryse laughed at the honesty of the reply. She loved her children so much that her heart ached with it. She ran her hand through the hair in question. “What happens when we cut it?”

“It goes away?” Alec asked, clearly unsure of his answer.

“Not what we cut.” Maryse clarified. “What’s left on your head. What happens to it?”

“It...grows back?”

Maryse beamed at him. “Exactly.” She reached down and took one of his small, delicate hands into hers. “What about your fingernails?”

“They grow back!” Alec shouted, clearly excited he’d figured out the answer she was looking for.

“Can I tell you something about wings?” She asked, leaning forward like it was a secret.

“They grow back?” Alec asked.

“The feathers do.” Maryse corrected gently. She tapped him on the nose. “We have to trim our nails and cut our hair so that there’s space for more to grow.” She explained. “Feathers fall out so there’s room for new ones.”

Alec turned to her and stared into her eyes like he would be able to see it if she wasn’t being completely and totally truthful. “So you aren’t gonna die.”

Maryse smiled gently and pulled him in for another hug. “No, Alexander. I’m not dying.”

It seemed as though Alec was finally content with his understanding of the situation. He resettled himself on Maryse’s lap so he could make faces at Isabelle. Maryse was more than content to watch her children play together until both of them fell asleep. Maryse knew enough to take advantage of the quiet. She settled Isabelle in her crib and left her toddler napping on the bed under a blanket.

In this moment, at least, all was well.

 

*****

 

Once Alec was certain that Maryse was in no danger from her molt, it became the only thing he wanted to talk about. He followed her down the hallways, picking up every feather that fell. Every time he passed a Shadowhunter who had their wings out, he would stop them with questions.

“Why are your wings black?”

“Because I’m a corvid.”

“What’s a… cor-”

“A corvid.”

“A corvid.” Alec repeated slowly, with a look of distinct concentration on his face.

“That’s right!”

“What’s a corvid?” Alec asked, returning to his original line of questioning once he’d conquered the unfamiliar word.

“Corvids are crows and ravens.”

“What do crows and ravens do?”

“Alexander!” Maryse stepped in to stop the assault of questions. She turned to the Shadowhunter he had been questioning and cursed her luck. It was a new transfer. “I’m sorry…” She trailed off, unsure how to address the Shadowhunter.

“Fallwell, Sam.” The Shadowhunter stated their name, grinning down at Alec before looking up at Maryse. “I just got here three days ago. I don’t mind answering a few questions.”

Maryse sighed, “It starts with a few questions. Then it never ends.”

Fallwell laughed, but nodded in understanding. “I’ll get back to it then.”

Maryse dismissed them before turning to her pouting son. “Alexander. What did I tell you about people going to the mission room?”

Alec scowled at the floor. “They’re busy and I need to let them work.”

“That’s right, Alexander. These people have a very important job, and it’s your very important job to make sure that they can do what they need to do.”

Alec scuffed his feet on the floor, kicking at nothing. “I just wanted to know why they had black wings. I never sawed black wings before.”

“You haven’t _seen_ them before.” Maryse corrected automatically before she let herself smile at Alec’s innocent curiosity. She held her hand out to him. “I happen to have a book that has all kinds of wings in it. Will you come look at it with me?”

Alec’s face instantly transformed into a sun-bright smile. “Yes!” He grabbed her hand and started skipping off, leading them forward even though he had no idea where the book was.

“We need to go to the library to find it.” Maryse said, when it became obvious that Alec was leading them back to the family room.

Alec froze his skipping. “Oh.” He spun around and started dragging Maryse in the opposite direction, this time toward the library. Maryse smiled and let herself be pulled.

 

Over the next several weeks, the book of Shadowhunter wings quickly became Alec’s favourite. There were photos of wings on every page, glossy pages with bright coloured pictures, and black and white diagrams showing flight patterns. Alec’s favourite were the clear plastic overlays displaying the anatomy of joints, ligaments, and bones. Alec couldn’t read yet, but he wanted to look at what he had named “The Wing Book” every night before bed.

“Why is a molt every three years?”

“Because it doesn’t have to happen more than that.”

“But why not?”

Maryse sighed, trying to figure out an answer that might satisfy Alec’s endless questions. “Why don’t you cut your hair every single day?”

“Because that would be silly!”

Maryse smiled. “I guess it would be silly for a molt to happen more often then, wouldn’t it?”

Alec pouted, but agreed nonetheless. He paused for a moment and then lit up with a smile when he came up with another question. “Why do Shadowhunters have different types of wings?”

“Because different people are good at different things.” Maryse responded. “Some wings are meant for being fast, and some wings are meant for being strong, and some wings are meant for flying a very long way. People are all different and good at different things, and wings are just a part of people.”

“Am I gonna have brown wings like you?”

“I don’t know.” Maryse answered, honestly. “What kind of wings do I have?” She asked, knowing that they’d been over the answer countless times in the past weeks. At this point, Maryse knew more about her own wings than she had ever thought to learn on her own.

“You’re a Kite!” Alec said, nearly shouting, voice bright in his enthusiasm.

“That’s right,” Maryse said, “I’m a Kite.” She took a deep breath before she continued, “My father is a Killdeer, and my mother is a Long-tailed Jaeger. I’m not like either of them.”

She wasn’t like them, she reminded herself, as she looked at Alec, her precious son. She would never abandon her children. Not for anything.

“What if I wanna be brown an’ white like you?” Alec asked, snuggling closer.

“Well, we’ll just have to see what happens when yours grow out when you’re bigger.”

“What kind of wings is Dad?”

“What kind of wings does Dad have.” Maryse corrected, absently. “He’s a Butcherbird.”

Alec frowned at that. “What do those do?”

“Butcherbirds are very good at being silent and still. Your father always waits for the right moment before striking.”

“Is that what Hodge is?”

“Hodge is a Boreal Owl.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means that he can also be really quiet when he flies, but he’s a lot better at seeing things in the dark than other people are.”

“I thought that runes let people see in the dark?”

“They can, but Hodge doesn’t always need them.”

“I wanna be able to see in the dark!”

“We’ll see, Alexander.” Maryse said, smiling softly.

“Why do I have to wait? Why can’t I know now?”

“You’re still growing.” Maryse pointed out. “You don’t even have the first of your pattern.”

“The pattern that makes wings?”

“That’s right.”

“Can I see yours?”

Maryse looked down at her son. “You have to move if you want to see it.”

Alec frowned for a moment, weighing his curiosity against his comfort in his mother’s arms. Finally the curiosity won out and he jumped off her lap. “I wanna see!”

Maryse stood and pulled off her shirt, turning her back to Alec. “You’ve seen it before.”

Alec walked closer and ran his fingers over the dark lines that ran down his mother’s back. The lines were thin and black, just like runes, but they wove together in a pattern, looking like vines made out of feathers. The black started at the top of her spine and then spread out below the lines of her shoulders, looping down to beneath her shoulder blades.

“The patterns are Raziel’s gift,” Maryse prompted with the beginning of the chanting rhyme that all Shadowhunter children knew. Alec kept following the lines that swooped across Maryse’s back, but he finished the poem from rote memory.

_“Raziel gave Shadowhunters patterns as gift,_

_So we can have wings that fly steady and swift_

_We learn and we grow,_

_When the pattern’s done we know_

_First runes and first flight,_

_It’s time to join the Angel’s fight.”_

Maryse let Alec’s small fingers trace the lines of her pattern and tried to burn the feeling of it into her memory. It seemed like such a short time ago that Alec had been born, when he was no bigger than little Isabelle. Here and now, he was growing and asking questions. She was passing along the same songs that she herself had learned as a child. She knew that in no time, he would be getting his patterns in, and then his wings. The thought of his first flight filled her with a bright, fierce kind of hurt; like something in her very bones was cracking at the idea of her beautiful, precious little boy spreading his wings and flying into the world where she couldn’t follow him.

She knew she couldn’t shelter him forever, so instead she would make sure he was ready. The world would try to burn her children down and she would do everything she could to make sure they learned how to withstand even the deadliest of flames.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Friends. I don't know *shit* about birds, so just... keep your eyes on The Puffin of Suspended Disbelief and go with it?


	3. Rite of Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alec gets his wings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL OF THIS AWESOME ART is by my [excellent housemate](http://fantabulisticity.tumblr.com/)!!! She has also been patiently schooling me in proper U.S. grammar, and I know that must be a herculean task.  
>   
> Endless, *ENDLESS* thanks to the beautiful [Emily_Sophie](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emily_Sophie/works) who somehow managed to talk me through everything, and held my hand, and also somehow managed to make sure that any part of this made sense.  
> This has been read through by two of the most incredible beta's I've ever had, so if you see any mistakes they're mine. Con/Crit is always welcome.

Alec’s neck twinged at the angle as he twisted to see his back in the mirror. The dark, bold, black lines of his pattern were nearly finished. Excitement rushed through him at the thought of it. He could almost feel what it would be like to fly. He could imagine what it would be like, the rush of air around him as he cut through the sky.

He could picture it: him, holding steady, providing support with his bow for Jace and Izzy as he flew up above them.

It was  _ so close _ . He knew it would only be a matter of weeks at the most. His mother had pulled him aside earlier in the morning, asking for him to meet her in her office after training. He knew it was going to be about getting his wings. The burning thrum of exhilaration that pulsed through his veins. If he thought about it for too long, he could barely breathe through it.

His entire life had been leading up to this. All of the training, his studies; he was finally ready. He would get his first runes, start going on patrols. He’d start flight training with Hodge. Alec had been watching for years. Standing behind his parents he had learned the strengths and weaknesses of the Institute and the Shadowhunters who lived there.

Alec had taught himself what it meant to lead. He’d learned that the key to effective management was understanding the strengths, weaknesses, and dynamics of the people who were involved. He’d listened to his parents talking quietly in their office, and to the people coming in from patrols. He listened to new transfers and the emissaries from the Clave. Finally,  _ finally _ he would be able to get to work. His job had always been to look after Isabelle, then Jace. Now his job was going to include looking after all of the Shadowhunters of the New York Institute, and Alec knew that it was what he was meant to do.

This was his first step. His life, his  _ future _ was in reach. Alec had been learning the motions his entire life and now he would be able to put them into practice. Alec knew, he could feel it in his bones: this is what he was  _ good _ at. The certainty of it sang through him. He was on the precipice of something  _ great _ .

   
  


 

Alec took a moment as he stood in the hallway in front of the door to his mother’s office. He took a deep breath, trying to remind himself that despite his impulse to let his joy overtake him, getting his wings was a very serious step in Shadowhunter life. He could never doubt his mother’s love. She made it so obvious every day. She cared and that was why she pushed. She wanted him - and Isabelle - to be ready for the future. They had to be prepared for the struggles that life would bring, and for that, they had to be the best.

Their mother would never accept anything less than brutal perfection, but that was because anything else would lead to mistakes in the field. It was their job to stay alive, protect each other, and to be forever vigilant in the battle against demonic forces.

It was right to celebrate milestones, to take pride in one’s accomplishments, but no Shadowhunter could ever afford to be complacent. That was the lesson that she kept trying to teach them. It was his own fault that he needed to be reminded so constantly. A single success meant nothing if he was too busy congratulating himself on past achievements to pay attention to the very real threats that were inherent to life as a Shadowhunter.

One last breath, and he stepped up and knocked on the heavy wooden door.

“Yes?” His mother’s voice was clipped but strong as she spoke through the still-closed door.

Alec eased it open just the slightest bit. “Mother? You wanted to speak with me?”

She looked up from her desk and smiled. “Yes! Alec, come in.”

He stepped inside her office, closing the door behind him and walking to sit in the chair on the opposite side of her desk.

“Do you know why I called you here?”

Alec went stiff for a moment, running his mind over everything that had happened in the past few weeks. He was broken out of his thoughts when she leaned forward with a look on her face that almost looked like a conspiratorial grin.

“Your pattern is finished?” She asked, and Alec could hear the joy in her voice. She looked at him with the warmth of approval, and Alec knew he would do everything he could to make that look last as long as possible.

“Yeah,” he said, “Yes.” he then corrected, “I can feel it.”  

He looked at his mother, and the happiness that seemed to shine from her face. She stood and walked around the desk, pulling him up and into a hug. Alec closed his eyes and leaned into it, tightening his arms around her ribs. This was the moment that he had barely dared to let himself hope for.

Eventually, Maryse pulled away, and held Alec at arm's length, keeping her hands on his shoulders.

“I’m so proud of you.” She said, and Alec could feel the rush of her approval as it flooded through his veins. He let himself smile back at her. He didn’t want to fight the thrill that was rushing through him. He could see the way that her eyes were shining. He wanted breathe in the moment and bask in it.

Alec knew, despite how hard it sometimes felt, they were in this together. If she ever seemed disappointed in him, it was just because she was his mother, and she wanted to see him become the best version of himself. He could feel the tension uncoiling as he sank into the moment. There was no disappointment here: only a mother watching with happiness as her child grew into the man he would become.

“Come sit with me.” She said, leading him back to the couch on the back wall of the office. They sat and she clasped his hands gently.

“Oh, Alec. I’m so proud of you.” She repeated, but it had no less effect the second time.

“Thanks, Mom.” He said, smiling up at her.

“I remember when you were so small, when you first wanted to learn about wings. Do you remember that?”

Alec frowned for a moment, trying to search his mind for some of his earliest memories.

“It was right after Isabelle was born, and you wanted to know everything there was to know about wings.” She reached up and brushed her hand along the hair that hung over Alec’s forehead. “I guess that hasn’t really changed much, has it.”

“It is the job of the Head of an Institute to know the strengths of their people.” Alec said, softly. It was something he’d heard from his mother more times than he could count. “Knowing how to best utilize the skills of the people you lead is the true mark of a good commander.”

Something softened in her gaze at his words. “And you will be one of the best, Alexander. I know it.”

Alec closed his eyes at his mother’s words. They pierced his chest, sharp and overwhelming. He never wanted anything more than to make her proud, but the weight of her expectation almost felt like too much at times. Alec wanted to be the best. He wanted to be everything she thought he could be. Alec felt his mother’s recognition as if it were all-encompassing illumination. The only problem was that the light of her regard was aimed so high, he could barely reach it. So often he found himself struggling, unseen.  

Alec could feel what it meant to be the best and it felt like an impossible feat when weighted against how far he had to go before he reached that status. He understood how much he still had to improve at everything he did in order to live up to the expectations of his mother.

He knew that he would do whatever it took to make sure that he could be that person his mother saw in his future. She looked at him and saw his potential. Alec knew that he would never stop pushing himself until he could live up to that ideal. No matter what it took, he would do it.

He knew that his mother only wanted the best for the entire family, and he was in the position to lay the groundwork for his siblings. His job was to be flawless in leadership, so his siblings could pursue their own strengths.

“It’s almost hard for me to believe.” Maryse’s voice broke through Alec’s thoughts. She looked at him so tenderly as she continued. “You’ll get to go to Idris for this.”

Alec had never been to Idris. He’d never been anywhere outside of New York. He had never truly spared the time to think about it, but hearing the wistful melancholy in his mother’s voice made him wonder.

“What’s it like there, in Idris?”

She smiled at him. “It’s beautiful. Especially now, in the spring. It’s like nothing else. The grass is so green, and you can smell all of the flowers blooming, no matter where you go.”

“Even if I spend the entire time inside, meditating with the Silent Brothers?” Alec asked, clearly skeptical.

Maryse let out a breath that was almost a laugh. “I remember it, when my wings came in.”

Alec leaned forward. His mother almost never talked about her past, and Alec would openly admit that he clung to every word that came out of her mouth when she spoke about her life. “What was it like?”

Maryse paused for a moment, frowning at nothing as she tried to remember everything she could about her own experience. “I remember… my back had been itching for  _ days _ . Nothing I did was any help, and I was ready to try  _ anything _ to make it stop. When I thought I wouldn’t be able to stand it for even a single minute more, I got to go to the Silent Brothers. They put some kind of salve on my back, it made the itch stop, but I remember that it made everything so much more intense. I could feel the humidity of the air, smell the pollen from the grass, even though I was underground.” She blinked, and then looked at her son, eagerly hanging on to her story.

“Do you have any questions?”

Alec glanced away from her for a moment before lifting his chin and looking her straight in the eye. “They give you something and you commune with the Angels. What is that like?”

“Sometimes it takes a while,” Maryse said slowly, trying to remember everything that she had heard from her friends when they had gone through the same thing so many decades ago. “Your father used to always say that he dropped straight into it. He said that it took him a  single second to reach the Angels.”

“It was different with you?” Alec asked.

Maryse contemplated for a moment. “It was and wasn’t.” She finally decided. “It didn’t feel like it took very long. It felt like I had barely had a chance to prepare myself for it. When I came back from it though, the Silent Brothers told me that it had been almost an entire day.”

“What was it like, though, speaking to the Angels?”

Maryse ran her hand through Alec’s hair. “I think even the greatest of poets wouldn’t have words for it.” She shook her head. “It’s also the part that’s most different for everyone. Your father and I met almost none of the same angels.”

Alec hesitated, before finally asking, “Who did you meet?” 

“Alec!” Maryse chided, “You know better than to ask that.” 

The encounters that Shadowhunters had with angels when drawing out their wings was regarded as one of the most deeply personal experiences of their lives.

“Right.” Alec said, looking away. “Sorry, Mother.”

“Oh, Alec.” Maryse said softly. “I did ask if you had questions.”

Alec glanced up at her in confusion. “What?”

Maryse just smiled at him. “I was met by Abathar Muzania and Jehoel, and Archangel Phanuel.”

“You met with an archangel?” The awe was clear in Alec’s voice. 

Angels were the balance to demons. There were hosts of angelic beings who were the foot-soldiers of the heavenly realms: those who were classified more by type than by thought, running purely on the instinct for creation. The lowest level of angels were rarely seen outside of the heaven dimensions, though they occasionally strayed into the human world. 

There were only seven archangels, the Greater Angels: one each to balance the seven demonic realms. There were the Lesser Angels as well: Generals of the heavens, who were still given names and were known for dominions, but had nowhere near the power of the seven rulers of heaven. 

Alec had been studying the mid-ranks angels for the past few weeks trying not to dream of who he wanted to meet. There were more generals of the heavens than Alec could name, but contact with an archangel was exceedingly rare. 

For a Shadowhunter to meet an archangel when receiving their wings was a truly incredible thing.

“The Archangel of Hope.” Alec said softly, then he paused trying to remember the other dominion of Phanuel “And... regret?”

Maryse looked at him and then leaned in closer. “I want to tell you something that I learned when I got my wings.”

Alec froze, overwhelmed by the weight of emotion he could feel from his mother. He leaned forward eagerly, already knowing that this would be one of the most precious moments of his life. There was something fragile between them, but it burned with depth of their love for each other. All Maryse ever wanted was for her firstborn to be able to live the best life possible, despite the impediments sanctioned by the clave. Alec had spent his entire life doing everything in his power to meet his mother’s expectations.

These were the moments that made everything worth it. Maryse could see the shadow of the courageous young man her boy would grow into, and Alec got to feel the warmth of her love.

“Phanuel isn’t the Archangel of Hope.” She said it softly, and her eyes burned with the joy of sharing a secret.

Alec could only stare. “What?”

Maryse shook her head. “It got lost in translation. They say that Phanuel is hope and regret, but it’s really about the balance of a cycle. Regret is the shadow of hope, but they can’t exist without each other.”

“Phanuel told you that?”

“It’s not something you’re told.” Maryse paused for a moment, trying to find words. “It’s a gift of understanding. You feel it, and it’s like you’ve known all your life, but never realized.”

Alec nodded slowly, processing. He licked his lips, working up the courage to ask his next question. “I - I don’t know Abathar?”

“Abathar Muzania.” Maryse corrected him absently. Then she gave him an appraising look and raised an eyebrow. “Who is Jehoel?”

“Jehoel is the Seraphim of Fire.” Alec answered immediately.

“Very good.” Maryse smiled at him. Alec could only smile back, completely swept up in the moment of unadulterated approval.

“Abathar Muzania is another angel of balance. Abathar Muzania is known as the Weighmaster of Souls.”

“That’s amazing.” Alec said, not even realizing he was speaking his thoughts.

“Oh, Alec.” Maryse shook her head and pulled her son in for a hug. “Just wait until you meet your own Angels.”

  
  


 

Alec’s wings came in barely a fortnight later. It had started with an itching ache, something that bordered on the beginning of a muscle cramp. Alec had woken up thinking that it was simply ache from training with his bow the day before, but when it persisted through the morning and only got steadily worse through the day, he realized what it was.

Alec couldn't contain his excitement. As soon as they’d been released from their studies, Alec grabbed Izzy and Jace and dragged them into the haven of his room.

“I can feel them!” Alec said, the excitement of his statement forcing his voice into an intense whisper.

“Your wings?” Izzy asked, her wonderment and awe was written clearly on her face. Alec nodded eagerly, eyes bright. “Yeah. I can feel them. I’m gonna tell Mom tonight.”

“Alec, I’m so happy for you!” Jace’s grin was bright and honest.

Alec was the first one of them to get wings, but it felt like a step forward for all of them. Alec had always been the one leading, but he would never, ever let his sibling be left behind.   
  


 

*****

 

It was strange, stepping through a portal and into the capital of Alicante. He had never been through a portal before, much less to Idris. Alec had been escorted by a representative from the Clave. On top of the nausea of portal-travel, there was the undeniable discomfort of having the hand of an unknown man on his shoulder.

The man hadn’t even introduced himself, simply grabbed Alec and steered him through the portal. His hands were weathered with age, and his face was marked by deep-seated frown lines. The pressure of his grip set off the itch of Alec’s incoming wings that had long since crossed the line from annoying to a completely consuming sensation that had been bordering on pain for the last several days.

There was a look on the man’s face that made Alec shake off the distraction of his burgeoning wings to straighten his spine and walk with his head up. He could feel the weight of everyone staring at him, and it made defiance burn through him. He had never been to Idris before. He had never been through a portal, but if they thought he was less because of it, he would show all of them.

There was steel in his bones. His mother had taught him that he was strong enough to carry the worst of the world. He had built himself up from there. It didn’t matter if he was some kind of outsider, some newcomer that everyone sneered at. He was the fucking  _ best _ at what he did, and he had the experience to prove it. He had been moving through the steps of running the Institute, and he was only fourteen. Alec knew that he was good at what he did, and if the soft politicians of Idris thought they could judge him for it, he would welcome them to try. He was hardly about to let the gossip of Idris get to him.

If someone had a problem with him, he would show them what it meant to pick a fight with a Lightwood.

He pushed down the thoughts of how much he wanted Jace and Isabelle to be there with him. It was his job to step forward first and carve a path so they wouldn’t have to fight the same battles. It was what he’d done all of his life, and he knew he wouldn’t falter now.

 

 

The first thing he thought of when he saw the city was how  _ bright _ everything was. He had gotten used to the shadows of the New York Institute.

It seemed like every building in Idris was open spaces and windows. It seemed foreign, clinical and cold. Alec could only think of the moments in shadows where he would have a moment to speak with Jace. How the darkness gave them the courage to put words to their fears. He thought of the alcoves where he’d hidden with Isabelle when they knew they weren’t getting the whole truth. The shadows that had supported them when they’d had to fight to learn about what was happening within their own home. Alec thought of the dark corners where he and Isabelle could simply take hands to remind each other they weren’t alone.

There was nowhere to hide in Idris, but there was nowhere to seek comfort either.

Alec decided it was fitting, as he was marched through unfamiliar halls, and brought to an even more unfamiliar building. The walls were covered in mosaics of apparently glorious scenes of battle. There was a column of people flanking the doors. Alec recognized a few of them from paperwork. He knew the Inquisitor, Imogen Herondale, and her second in command, Malachi Dieudonné. Most of the faces were new to him, though.

Alec refused to be intimidated.

 

“Alexander Gideon Lightwood.” The Inquisitor’s voice was detached and disdainful. “You stand before us, preparing to undergo the Rite of Wings.”

The words were old, and Alec could feel the weight of thousands of years behind them. They were words that had been spoken in every language around the world. He was standing in the footsteps of every single Shadowhunter who had ever flown.

 

There were times when the weight of his heritage felt like cement in his bloodstream, clogging his heart and stealing his breath. In this moment, that weight was the warmth of a thick blanket in the winter. It was the comfort of a heavy shield that had been battle-tried and tested to be true.

Alec took a deep breath. His mother had been right; he could smell the sweet blossoms of flowers in the wind. She had been here once, waiting for her life to change. This was the moment when he would be given the mantle he would carry for the rest of his life. 

The burning, aching itch of his wings was a deluge through his nerves. His blood felt like lightning. He would walk forward as the person he had always been, but when he walked away, everything would be different.  _ He _ would be different.

 

Alec took the prescribed three steps forward. “I come in supplication to beseech an assembly with the Angels.”

“Do you pledge yourself to be humble of heart and honest in intention?” The Inquisitor continued with the ritual words.

“As it would be sworn on the Soul Sword: I do.” Alec replied.

“So be it.” The inquisitor said, but there was something scornful and cutting in tone. “May the Angels guide you to your rightful path.”

 

With that, the honour guard stepped away from the door. Alec walked forward alone and pushed the heavy doors open. He stepped inside, and they closed behind him with a solid thud. The building was completely dark. Even if Alec had runes for night vision they wouldn’t have helped.

Alec had the fleeting thought that this one building made up for all of the shadows that didn’t exist in the rest of the city.

“ALEXANDER LIGHTWOOD.” The voice of a Silent Brother echoed in his head. “YOU HAVE COME TO US TO SEEK THE ANGELS AND GAIN YOUR WINGS.”

Alec nodded, even though it was pitch black. “I have.” He felt hands on his shoulders and closed his eyes, doing his best to not stumble over the smooth floor of the building. 

The touch of the Silent Brothers felt so completely different from the judgemental touch of the Shadowhunter who had acted as Alec’s honour guard. The Silent Brothers felt like a steady, guiding press, but also the absence. Alec was completely blind and the presence of his guides felt like negative space had somehow been solidified. Instead of being pushed from the hands on his shoulders, he was being pulled into a vacuum that was being created in the space before him. The Silent Brothers made no noise as they moved, so Alec’s footsteps were the only sound to echo through the emptiness of the room. 

He was guided down what he assumed was a hallway, turning occasionally. The last thing he was expecting was the warmth of sunlight on his face. He blinked his eyes open slowly, adjusting from the endless black of before.

“A DARK ROOM IS NO PLACE FOR WINGS, YOUNG SHADOWHUNTER.”

Alec looked up at the Silent Brother, who almost looked kind, despite the scars of his station.

“I suppose not.” Alec finally said, unsure if he was supposed to respond. Alec didn’t hear it, but he had the feeling that the Silent Brother was laughing at him. He was led to a table, where there was a stack of neatly folded white clothing, a jar full of what Alec assumed to be the salve that would help bring his wings out, and a chalice. 

He couldn’t help that his first thought was a desperate hope that whatever was in the lotion would help ease the feeling of his wings coming in. He knew he needed enough calm and focus to be able to meditate as part of communing with the angels, and he couldn’t imagine being able to think past the sting of his body adjusting for his wings. With a sigh, Alec shook his head. Shadowhunters had been doing this for centuries. If all those who had gone before had managed it, Alec knew that he would too. He blew out a breath, rolled his shoulders, and stepped towards the table.

The clothing felt like air beneath his fingertips when he reached for it. The weave of the fabric was so fine Alec had to bring it nearly to his nose to see it. Alec took his clothes off and changed into the ceremonial outfit. The trousers were held on with a simple drawstring, and they brushed the top of his feet, like they had somehow been tailored specifically for him.

The shirt had a collar that fit snugly around his throat, and then the thinnest ribbon of fabric that dripped down his back until it flared out to join the bottom hem. The feeling of air against the bare skin of his back almost seemed to help with the overpowering sensation of his wings coming in. It felt like his skin was being stretched, pushed out so his new limbs would have space. Alec wasn’t sure if he had imagined it, but there was a cool breeze that seemed to brush between his shoulder blades, offering the lightest hint of relief.

Alec wasn’t sure what to do with the clothes he had been wearing, so he folded them up and put them underneath the table.

 

“KNEEL WHEN YOU ARE READY, ALEXANDER LIGHTWOOD.”

 

Alec glanced at the Silent Brother and then moved to the center of the room where warmth of the sunlight felt the strongest. There was a slight dip in the stone floor, as if it had been worn down from all of the people who had knelt in the same place. Alec got to his knees and tried to focus on the feeling of sun on his face and cool stone beneath him. The ever-present itch had built into a burning ache, and it was all he could do to breathe through it.

Everything else was beyond his control.

 

The hands of the Silent Brothers were almost a firm and sure pressure against his back. It felt more like Alec had become hyper-aware of the sensation where his skin was not being touched. The Silent Brothers were an absence, a void, and Alec easily found himself getting caught in the bewildering feeling of it. The thick, oily glide of the salve soothed the burning itch from beneath his skin, steadily numbing the growing ache that had so completely preoccupied Alec’s mind.

Alec closed his eyes and for the first time in days his mind drifted beyond the demanding impression of his incoming wings. He could breathe and think of things beyond the tormented skin of his back.

Alec thought of his mother and the smell of flowers. He thought of Jace and the fire that tangled in his blood when they trained together: the spark of life in Jace’s two-tone eyes. He thought of Isabelle and the strength of her stance despite five-inch heels, the curve of her smile and the joy of her laughter.

Alec thought of his future, how the one promise he made to himself every single day was to do everything he could to safeguard the spark in his siblings. He thought of everything he wanted for himself: the day that he would run the New York Institute; what it would feel like to portal into Idris and see people look on him with approval. He would have their respect, and it would be  _ his _ . The Lightwood name came with expectations, and he would wear them like a well-fitting coat. He would prove to everyone that they were right to trust in his family: right to trust in  _ him _ . When he spoke, people would listen, because he would have proved that he was worthy of their deference.

Alec’s back had gone almost entirely numb from the application of the ritual liniment the Silent Brothers had coated on his skin.

 

“ALEXANDER LIGHTWOOD.” The Silent Brothers finally took their hands off his back. “IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO MEET THE ANGELS AND JOIN THE RANKS OF THE SHADOWHUNTERS.”

 

Alec shifted from his knees so he was sitting cross-legged on the floor. One of the Silent Brothers brought him the chalice. Whatever potion that was in it smelled of fresh-cut grass and sulphur. Alec didn’t look at it; he simply took the cup and swallowed down the entire contents. He shuddered at the feeling of it sliding down his throat. As soon as the last of his shivers subsided, he could already feel a cool feeling building in the pit of his stomach and spreading out along his limbs.

He closed his eyes once more as the cold melted into a feeling of being utterly numb -  devoid of any sensation at all. Distantly, Alec was aware that his body was still seated on the cold stone floor. He felt detached from his physical; far more drawn to the beam of sunlight shining down. He let go, and he could feel himself floating up, swirling among the dust and pollen that shimmered in the air.

It didn’t matter if his body was cold or uncomfortable. Alec himself was bathed in gentle warmth. Everything was golden, and Alec let himself sink into the sky.

  
*****

The golden light flared into a bright, unforgiving white, and there was a sharp tang to it: it was the bite of wind that chilled to the bone no matter how many layers were worn. It was bright and piercing, like a shot of adrenaline: the sting and rush. Alec could feel it pulling on him, tugging at his edges, and he knew if there had been any fraying seams, they would have unraveled in a breath. Instead, he’d never felt more whole; never felt more at peace.

There were no worries shadowing the back of his mind; no stress lingering in the bottom of his lungs. There was just sun and  _ wind _ , so much wind. Alec cast himself out, letting himself get drawn in to the current of it. There was a slight hint of salt in the air, like if he dipped closer to the ground, there might be ocean. Falling was the last thing on Alec’s mind though. Instead, he let himself coast further upward, like he was a feather over a fan.

Alec felt solid and weightless and infinite, stretching into some endless sky. Everything was fresh and cool and bright. There was nothing at all that he had to do except  _ exist _ . It was being broken loose and cracked open only to discover that his soul was ink, waiting to be spilled onto empty canvas. He let himself spin higher, floating on the wind, and drawn by some unknown magnetism, calling him ever upward.

It was the easiest thing in the world to follow his instinct, to let himself be drawn wherever he felt pulled to go. The gold of the sunlight had long since given way to an endless, pure white, but it was only when Alec could feel shadows that he regained enough of his senses to do anything more than simply  _ be _ .

The wind was still there, pushing him wherever it would, but now he could sense the shadow of a mountain; the way air would curl up off a cliffside.  He was light as he had been, but he felt settled for a moment. The wind swirled around him, pushing him to stay where he was.

Alec could feel a presence around him. It was warm, welcome touch. The kind that cradled and held him safe. There was nothing possessive about it; simply caring, enveloping, overwhelming. One feeling gave way to two, then three, then four. It was all around him, overlapping, enfolding: curling inside him to rest at the very core of his soul.

 

_ “Alexander Lightwood.” _

 

It wasn’t so much a voice as a presence. Words weren’t being spoken; it was simply that Alec’s understanding was changed to see that the words had always been there. 

Alec knew that he had reached the Angels.

 

_ “Alexander.” _

 

The entirety of existence shaped itself so that the angels had spoken, and Alec shuddered at the power of it. 

_ “We have watched your life since you were merely a spark.” _

 

The voices coalesced merging into one sound that shattered through time and space.

__

_ “You have come far, but your future is a path without end.” _

The voice changed: losing the echo of a chorus, gaining the stone flavour of solitude and the bitter fresh that spoke to Alec of those few, desperate times when he found himself wiping away the end of his tears. 

_ Quaspiel. _ An archangel. Quaspiel was known to be called by wishes for solitude, and had to be summoned by earnest tears shed in truth. The air changed, and Alec knew with entire certainty that he was completely and utterly alone. The angel had suffused its words into the smallest crevices of Alec’s being, but Alec was alone as the awareness washed over him.

 

_ “Silence can be strength or sickness. Resilience can only be forged by withstanding trials. There is a great burden in learning to lift the troubles of others.” _

 

Alec let it roll through him, and felt the words settle like a forcefield hovering just far enough above his skin to feel the vibration of it.  __ The words of an archangel. Alec gave himself over to them entirely. It was breath from the sharp edge of a cliff overlooking the roaring of the sea: close enough to feel the wind and hear the crash of water, but separated from it and utterly untouchable. 

It took the single turn of a wave for everything to change again. For the first time since Alec had let himself rise, he felt weight. It crept along his edges and hung there. It was confining and strengthening at the same time: the heaviness of stone balanced with comfort of trustworthy fortification. He was constricted of movement and swaddled in security.

Bittersweet melancholy ached through him: the sweet, sharp sting of knowing his own loyalty. It was the ache of a bruise that settled into him: the torn-edge surety that with his love came dedication of his whole self. It was the overwhelming crush of a rockslide weighed against the unending steadiness of the mountain. It was swallowing ice that froze and cut his throat, but would quench thirst all the same.

_ Jehudiel _ . The Angel of Responsibility, but also of forgiving love. Distantly some part of Alec twinged with surprise. It was rare to be visited by a single Greater Angel, let alone two.

 

_ “One need not be blinded to learn the value of darkness, though lights seen from the shadows may seem the brightest. You must absolve yourself for the mistakes you will make as you learn when the struggles of others are yours to assist with.” _

 

Alec could feel the words sewing themself into him, folding over and tempering rough edges. It was the painful heat of transformation into something more solid. He could feel the press of hands, forcing him to mould into different shapes, but with it came foundations of steel conviction. He was painted by the fingerprints of those who he would grant his love to. It was the tenacity of wind, blowing steadily over eternity to eventually wear down even the strongest of stone. It was strength in knowing there would be weakness.

Alec had just gotten used to breathing around the lump in his throat when it dissolved into cool, free-flowing water. The weight that had held him down expanded, swallowed him, and then faded leaving nothing but a bright, rushing tumble in its place. Alec had been fully cut loose. There was nothing left to hold him in place; he was everywhere, everything. It was the rush of a fall, the joy of childhood play and the holistic trust of following instinct. It was fickle breeze, tugging on strings and then rushing away with a laugh.

He was magnanimous, light enough to sweep past the the cracks formed by even the deepest of transgressions. He was the steady optimism that came from the unbridled energy of a waterfall and the omnipresent delicacy of mist. He could reach everywhere, but the strength to withstand anything was thrumming through him. Alec was the wind that could topple trees, but instead drifted slowly beneath falling flower blossoms.

_ Zedekul _ . Freedom, benevolence. A lesser angel that Alec hadn’t expected to encounter.

 

_ “The edges of freedom are always bound by risk. Do not allow the weight of your mercy for others to drown your fire for life. Not all transgressions need to be forgiven, so long as your heart remains strong enough to hold love and follow what is right.” _

 

Alec felt it wash over him, spread through every speck of his existence. He was everywhere. He could feel the sharp, unflinching bright from the dimensions of heaven, and the deep, unforgiving heat that came from the lands of hell. He could feel the spark that spanned every spectrum of reality. Alec could smell the sharp bitter of unripened leaves that came from those few creatures who had enough power and drive towards creation to be be classified as Angels and taste the sparking embers of every being that had been labelled demonic. The creatures called demons were truly just those of equal power, but filled with instinct for destruction.

Alec could feel every shade of intention and morality that existed in his own home world: a middle ground where creation and destruction would continually be locked in battle. The reality that Alec existed in: full of hopes and fears, of luck and tragedy. It was the power of love: unequalled in the ability to create security and devastation. It was a world that was nothing except coexisting dichotomies that inherently couldn’t occur together, and yet somehow did. Alec’s home of mistakes and learning, wind and ocean, of struggle that were somehow triumph by the very existence of turbulence. 

He was sinking down, could feel that he was spinning back to himself when suddenly he was caught by the sweetest touch of a gentle breeze. It was the taste of sun on brook through a meadow. It was the balm to every ache and the steady comfort of stretching out aching muscles. Alec could feel confusion swirling through him. It was unheard of to be the West Wind. It hadn’t happened in centuries. There was no part of him that was left to deny the truth of the feeling though. He was somehow meeting a third angel of the highest order.

_ Israfel.  _ Archangel of Healing and the breath of the West Wind.

 

_ “Sometimes great pain is needed to bring healing; fortify yourself for what is to come. Others cannot walk a path that is meant for you alone. You have been chosen by many, some of whom have not yet spoken. The West Wind can guide you if you find the courage to trust, but the strength for the battle can come from you alone.” _

 

It was a shock like lightning when Alec suddenly came back to himself. The weight of his own body felt foreign and clumsy.  His joints were filled with an ache that he knew meant he needed to wait for a few moments before trying to move.  _ Three archangels _ .

Shadowhunters didn’t speak of their experiences with Angels often, but Alec had heard enough to know that one archangel was a rare occurrence, and three was completely unprecedented. He took a deep breath and felt like he was seeping back into his own body. It was as though he had been pulled apart and had his jagged edges sanded down. There was a feeling of peace that had settled in his spine.

The maddening, burning itch of the past few weeks was gone, and there was a weight on his back, that felt whole and  _ right _ in a way that Alec knew he would never be able to explain. He glanced behind himself and saw his wings for the first time, covered in the mouse-brown down of his fledgling feathers. Alec rolled his shoulders slowly, stretching out his wings. He could feel the span of them, a wingspan so much larger than he’d expected, but fitting for his height, he supposed. He tried to flick the tips of his wings, but felt the tension in his muscles that threatened to turn into a cramp. Alec took a deep breath and relaxed back into stillness, letting his body adjust. 

He had been with the Angels long enough that the sun had long since faded. The sky above him was the deep velvet of night. It was like nothing he had ever seen before. The night sky of New York was under the dominion of street lights. Any attempt at blue was always washed with the orange of glow of the city: proof of the city that seemed to breathe with a life of its own.

The sky of Idris was pristine, the unfamiliar clarity highlighted by the band of the Milky Way that was clearly visible. He closed his eyes and let the night wash over him.

Even in the darkness, the air still smelled like spring.

  
  
  


Alec stayed with the Silent Brothers until the sun rose. They had offered to send him back, told him that there would be a clave representative stationed outside the door waiting. They had sounded as kind as was possible for Silent Brothers as they explained he could be taken to a real bed for the night, but Alec knew that he wouldn’t find a welcome from anyone in the Clave.

If there was anything that Alec had learned living in New York City, it was that sometimes there was honour in pride. He had lived his entire life without their interference or approval. He would rise through their ranks, and when he looked at them as an equal at the table, he would know that he had done it entirely without their help. He knew he was strong enough for it. His mother had shown him that.

Alec had watched his entire life as she had climbed through the ranks as they tried to cut her down at every juncture. Alec knew that he would prove to them. The Clave was wrong to to discount the Lightwoods. He would show them all, and he refused to be even the slightest bit beholden to any of them.

He would live up to the Lightwood name and find his power in the Clave. He would get to a position where he could make the decisions he needed to without having to justify his actions to anyone, let alone get approval from a committee. 

There was a fire of defiance that burned in him, but it was only fed by the calm steadiness that he had gained with his wings. He knew what it felt like, now. He had felt what it was to be everything. He had met them: the angels of freedom, responsibility, and solitude. Meeting the angels was said to show a Shadowhunter their path in life, and Alec had gotten the message loud and clear.

  
  
  


When the morning sun was high enough to have burned through the lingering morning mist, Alec finally stood from the floor. He changed back into the dark jeans that he’d worn but hesitated when he reached for his shirt. Weapons weren’t allowed into the Rite of Wings - not even a stele. It meant that Alec couldn’t modify his shirt to fit over his new wings.

There was a brief moment when Alec considered putting his shirt on anyway, but the thought of crushing his wings, even beneath the thin fabric of his shirt, was too uncomfortable to contemplate. The down of his feathers was so delicate; his new appendages were so sensitive that he could feel even the slightest hint of a breeze. The idea of constricting his wings, of crushing delicate limbs with even the smallest touch of pressure was unfathomable. Alec couldn’t think of a worse sensation.

Alec knew that he would never do anything to bind his wings. His wings were his freedom, and his future. He would have the next few years to train. Then he would shed the down of his childhood and move on to the mature feathers that would carry him through the rest of his life. 

Alec was not going to begin the rest of his life by holding himself back. He took the shirt, folded it neatly and tucked it into the crook of his arm. He could feel the curve of his wings as the feathers brushed against the skin of his back. The only way to live his life was to keep moving forward, and that meant leaving behind the things that no longer fit.

Alec took one last look around the simple stone room. He knew he would never return, but he would never be able to forget it either. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. It was the cool scent of stone, and the sweet, strong scent of blooming flowers.

“YOUNG SHADOWHUNTER. IT IS TIME FOR YOU TO TAKE YOUR LEAVE.”

Alec rolled his shoulders and nodded. He was ready.

Silent Brothers once again led Alec through the endless dark of the hallway, into the antechamber. Alec could once again feel their hands on his shoulders, but it didn’t hurt. The steady non-pressure was a comfort. Alec let himself bask in the warm and safety of complete, all-encompassing black of the hallways.

There was a long moment, when Alec was standing still in the dark, waiting for the door to the building to open, and the voices of the Silent Brothers once again began to echo through his head.

“THE ANGELS HAVE SPOKEN. MAY THEIR VIRTUES GRACE YOUR PATH. ALEXANDER GIDEON LIGHTWOOD, YOUR WINGS HAVE BEEN GRANTED.” 

 

With that, the door to the building cracked open. The light was blinding after the unceasing darkness, but Alec was pushed forward.

Alec stumbled from the pressure, blinking from the glare of the morning sun. The street was empty. The honour guard was gone, so the only thing left was silent streets. The early morning light bleached the buildings and refracted off, leaving Alec squinting at the unfamiliar city. It took him a few moments to find his balance, but he stood up and looked around.

The only other person that Alec could see anywhere was the same gruff, silent man from who had been his escort from the New York Institute the day before. The man had never introduced himself and never looked at Alec with anything less than derision. His footsteps were heavy and solid, two steps ahead and to the right. 

When he had first been led into the city, Alec had been pushed through the streets. Now, with his new wings uncovered and curling around his bare shoulders, there was nowhere for the man to grab him.

Instead, they walked in silence through the empty streets of the city.

When they reached the portal, the man simply stood back, and Alec understood it was another test. It was his job to think of home and get himself back to where he needed to be. If he lost focus he could end up trapped in what Alec’s books referred to as “some unknown space outside of reality.” Alec had always figured it to be more likely that anyone lost to a portal was simply dead, but the people involved were too prideful to admit it.

Alec took a deep breath and cleared his mind of any thoughts that weren’t the  grounds at the back of the New York Institute. He had seen them every day of his life, seen portals blazing open as people walked through. Today, it would be him, stepping through the spinning ring of light and back home, to his Institute, his city, his family.

Stepping through a portal alone was what Alec imagined it would feel like to be sucked out of an airplane through a broken window while also somehow being sent through a tumble-dryer. As soon as his feet touched the familiar grass of New York, he took a stable stance and a few deep breaths. The nausea and vertigo only lasted a moment before Alec battled it back. He straightened and rolled his shoulders, still unused to the weight of his wings on his back.

His first order of business would be to go to his room and fix up a shirt so that he could wear it around his wings. Eventually he would learn to hide his wings back behind his pattern, but that could come later. For now, Alec knew he needed to get used to life with additional limbs.

 

 

Alec knew that his solution for dealing with his shirt conundrum was inelegant at best. There was clothing designed specifically for people who wanted or needed to keep their wings out. Alec had been intending to get some, but it had never seemed more important than all of the other things he did with his time every day.

Wing-shirts were mostly made the same way. The back of the shirt was made with stiff, structured fabric shaped roughly like a pen-nib to wrap around the ribs, with the thinnest part of the shirt resting between the shoulder blades, coming up to a collar of loose ribbon that was fed through loops on the other side of the shirt. The front of a wing-shirt was loose and flowing, allowing for freedom of movement despite the inflexible back. Shirtsleeves, when present, were usually loose as well, and contained at the wrist with a cuff.

Alec had been looking at sleeveless wing-shirts so that he wouldn’t have to worry about the fabric getting caught in his bowstring. He hadn’t managed to actually get any ordered before his Rites though. It did, however, mean that Alec was going to have to butcher some shirts and make them work until he had a chance to get some proper clothing for his current situation. 

He would have a few days to adjust before he was back to his usual roster of duties. For the time being, his job was to adjust to his wings. His center of gravity was off from what he had grown used to. Every step was weighted differently. He could feel the ache of muscles adjusting to the mass of his new wings.

It was also time to recover from the ordeal itself, which Alec had to admit he was grateful for. He felt completely energized by his time with the angels but at the same time completely exhausted. He could feel the weariness that was starting to fade in at the edges of his mind. He still had some things to take care of, but he might have to rearrange his plans and sleep before getting back into his training.

Alec was almost startled when he realized that he’d reached the door to his room. He stared for a moment before deciding that sleep definitely needed to be prioritized. He shook his head and walked in to his room. He walked in and then frowned. 

There was a pile of folded clothing on his bed that hadn’t been there when he’d left the day before.

He walked over and realized they were wing-shirts. There were probably ten of them, all in the darker colours he preferred, black, navy, and forest green, even a maroon one on the bottom of the pile. Alec spread them all out and noticed the corner of a white envelope beneath it all. He pulled the paper out and opened it, pulling out the letter inside.

 

_ Alec, _

 

_ When I met my own angels, my life changed in ways I never could have imagined. I found myself taking paths that I never would have dared to walk before. _

_ Throughout my life, I find myself looking back on the words that were spoken to me, and every time I realize deeper meaning. My angels have been my comfort, my guidance, and my inspiration to reach for the wildest dreams. _

_ Looking back, I can see the imprint of the angels in every step. _

_ I hope that meeting your Angels was everything you had hoped it would be.  I hope that you find strength in their words. I hope that whatever truth you learn stays in your heart every day. _

_ You are the most wonderful son that any mother could wish for. I know that you are destined for only the greatest of things. _

_ Getting your wings is the first step to becoming the man I know you will become. I know that you’ll continue to make me proud, as you have today, and every day of your life. This is the beginning of your journey. _

_ You have always been so strong, and I know that you will only continue to grow and learn. Whatever direction your wings take you, I know that you will be more than capable to fly to the greatest heights. _

_ There were some things that I didn’t get a chance to tell you before you left for Idris. I would like to speak with you as soon as possible. I’ll be in my office unless there’s an emergency. _

_ ~With all my love,  
_

_                         Mom _

  
  
  


Alec stared at the letter in his hand, trying to focus on the positive words but getting lost in the last paragraph. The warm feeling of security he’d held since meeting the angels started to shrink. His life wasn’t what it felt like to be a part of the very wind itself. His life was here, in the Institute, where his job was to make sure that everything ran as smoothly as possible.

What could be so important that he needed to report to her directly? If it was important enough that he needed to see her immediately, why hadn’t she told him before he left? Unless it was something she thought she couldn’t tell him? Or maybe she was worried about distracting him from his Rite. That thought made frustration start to boil through him.

How was he ever going to be able to prove himself if she never trusted him enough to tell him things in the first place?

He tossed the letter down to the bed and took a deep breath, trying to rationalize his way through the hurt and fear that was building in his mind. Not knowing never helped anything. He grabbed one of the wing-shirts from the pile and put it on before leaving his room to go find his mother.

  
   
  
  


It took no time at all for Alec to navigate through the familiar hallways of the Institute to find himself at his mother’s office. He knocked on the heavy door and waited to enter until he was called in. He heard his mother’s voice through the door, and he pushed his way into the room. 

He frowned at the first sight of his mother. There was something about her that seemed strained. She was curled over a pile of paperwork that was spread across her massive mahogany desk.

The paperwork and the stress were a common sight. Alec almost found comfort in the consistency of it. When his mother was at her desk doing paperwork, it meant that things at the Institute were running smoothly.

It was when his Mom got called out into the field that he knew the battle against demons was proving difficult to overcome. Those moments seemed to be fairly few and far-between, which Alec was unspeakably grateful for.

This, though, was a new thing that he didn’t recognize. His mother was still at her desk, still working diligently, as always, but there was something else about her, something pale and drawn. Alec could feel his worry spike.

“Mom?” His voice was hesitant.

"Alec!” For the first time she glanced up from her paperwork. Her smile was wide and and true as she looked at him. Alec could see the spark of life in her eyes and his worry for her began to ebb.  

“Alexander, I’m glad you’re back. I need to talk to you."

“I know.” Alec said, “I found your letter.” He paused for a moment. “Thank you for the shirts.”

Maryse stood from her seat and walked around the desk. “I know you didn’t have a chance to get any before you left.”

Alec could feel a light burn of embarrassment rise on his neck. “I would have figured something out.”

“Of course you would have!” She replied, sounding as if she had could never have conceived of anything different. “It’s not about whether or not you could have figured it out. This is a special thing, Alec.” She walked towards him and pulled him into a hug. “There are many things in life that I won’t be able to help you with, especially now that you have your wings. This is something that I could do for you, and I’m honoured to be able to do it.”

When Alec felt the burn of emotion from her words, it was no longer from embarrassment, but love and pride. He swallowed and tightened his hold on her as he hugged her back. “Thank you.”

She kissed him on the forehead before pulling away. “Your wings are beautiful.”

“Mom!” He protested.

“What?” Her smile was teasing.

Alec’s wings clumsily flared out behind his shoulders before falling back to their neutral position behind his back. “They’re still all down.”

“And they are beautiful.” She insisted, warmly.

Alec met her eyes and smiled. He wasn’t sure if he’d quite call his wings beautiful at this stage, but the  _ potential _ of it was there, and that was something he couldn’t deny. He wasn’t sure what his wings would turn out to be, but whatever they were was going to be  _ massive _ . Alec gave himself a long moment to bask in his mother’s attention before he remembered what had drawn him there in the first place.

“Your letter said you needed to speak with me?”

“Yes.” Maryse said, and her grin slipped a bit.

Fear crept through the back of his neck. "Mom, is everything okay?"

Maryse looked up at him. There was something shining in her eyes that he’d never seen before. She looked completely elated and impossibly tired at the same time.

"I wanted to wait until you returned to tell you." She said slowly, “It didn’t seem fair to drop it on you before. Your Rite of Wings needs to be about you, and nothing else.”

Alec slowly stepped forward, so he could reach out and put his hand on her arm. "Mom, what is it?"

Maryse looked at him, reaching out to take his hands in hers. She looked him in the eye and sighed with a rueful smile.

"Alexander.” She said softly, “I’m pregnant."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My housemate also made this art, and it's an artistic interpretation of what it looks like when Alec is first brought in to do his Rite of Wings.  
> Anish Kapoor would be proud.  
> 
> 
> I'm going to be trying this thing called "having a posting schedule", and it's very new for me, so I'm not sure how it'll shake out, but, my plan is to have something up roughly every fortnight, so look for something twice a month.
> 
> [I've got a tumblr](http://taupefox59.tumblr.com/) if you'd like to say hi!

**Author's Note:**

> Come say hi to me at [my tumblr!](https://taupefox59.tumblr.com)


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